


a flair for the dramatic

by retrosas



Category: Kuroko no Basuke | Kuroko's Basketball
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Dark Kuroko Tetsuya, Gen, Hurt No Comfort, Obsessive Behavior, Originally Posted on FanFiction.Net, Overprotective Kuroko, Self-Harm, Suicide, kind of ooc i think, this is not a happy story
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-30
Updated: 2020-09-30
Packaged: 2021-03-08 00:48:03
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,995
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26726941
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/retrosas/pseuds/retrosas
Summary: "Have you ever really danced on the edge? Have you fallen? Have you seen the tidal wave? I have. I have, and I brought it upon self." Companion fic toSelfish Machine; Semi-AU!, dark! Kuroko, dark! Themes.Originally posted on FFNET in 2013 under the same title and summary. Can be read alone.
Relationships: Generation of Miracles & Kuroko Tetsuya, Kagami Taiga & Kuroko Tetsuya, Kuroko Tetsuya & Everyone
Kudos: 18





	a flair for the dramatic

**Author's Note:**

> hi, if you're here from selfish machine, hi! this is kuroko's pov of everything that happened on there. if you're new, well, hello, this is fine to read alone but it would be best if you read both!
> 
> i've said this in the opening notes of selfish machine and in the summary here, but this is not a new fic. this is fic was originally posted on FFNET under the name Unscented Rain 0427, aka my knb writing account from 2013. i made _no changes_ to this fic whatsoever except for formatting (as you can see, not even the summary changed). 
> 
> same note: please note i wrote this when i was 14-15, i was an angsty teenager going through things (still am but whatever) and this was also partly a vent fic and partly me vibing to pierce the veil. i mentioned this on my FFNET post, but i wrote this following the way i understood the albums--flair for the dramatic: falling in love; selfish machines: being in love; collide with the sky: effects of love. while the first fic was obv selfish machine-heavy, this one focuses more on flair for the dramatic (hence the title) and collide with the sky.
> 
> again, friendly reminder to keep your back-ups safe! post them on here or just keep them to yourself; no matter how cringe or emabrassed you may be over your old work, it's always nice to see how far you've come. if you're like me, who's been on ao3 for a while now but also came from FFNET, remember to keep your back-ups safe! post them on here or just keep them to yourself; no matter how cringe or emabrassed you may be over your old work, it's always nice to see how far you've come. uwu also, thanks to those who used to support me on over on FFNET, ilyasm huhuhu (my username was kinda cringe too thinking about it, when it was about me and my crush then...ugh)
> 
> before proceeding, **please heed the warnings and the tags!!!** this work _does not_ mean to romanticize self-harm and suicide at all. this work also _does not_ aim to romanticize obsessive and overprotective behaviors/mannerisms as exhibited by kuroko here. if you are experiencing suicidal thoughts, constant nervous breakdowns, violent intrusive thoughts and the like, please do try and seek professional help. if professional help is not an option for you, please do note you are not alone and there are people willing to help you out, whether that means hearing you out themselves or connecting you to someone better for you.

Blank, blue eyes. Soul searching. Flinching. Noticing. Smiling. Laughing. Enjoying. Hands ruffle pale blue hair, hands much bigger than the head itself. Irritation. Biting lip. Reprimand. Laugh. Ice creams. Convenience stores. Ordering. Heterochromatic gazes eyeing everything in sight. Weird, attention-worthy things that change every day and judged by its luckiness. Whining and clinging. Reprimanding. Arms sling over smaller shoulders. Stares.

Smiles.

This was perfect. This was wonderful.

Can’t it last forever?

* * *

Tetsuya didn’t know when this all started, or how, for that matter.

He cared too much, he knew. He was protective of Seirin, and knew that he was worse with his Teiko team. Anyone with eyes would see that he cared much, much more—more than he ever would for Seirin—for the Generation of Miracles. He always watched over their well-beings, their health, and their smiles.

Thinking about it, it wouldn’t seem so wrong that he cared so much for them. After all, they cared for him too. They were overprotective of their shadow in their own ways. They cared for him, and for each other, probably more than they care about their own team.

But that was it.

When did his simple, protective streak for _his_ Generation of Miracles turn into something deeper, and into possessiveness? When did that possessiveness turn into obsession?

Why _doesn’t_ it feel wrong?

* * *

The Generation of Miracles were broken by their third year. No one knew why, not even the broke themselves knew why they’ve crumbled, but Tetsuya knew. Tetsuya knew, and was there to pick up the pieces.

He started with Kise. He noticed how he’s been underestimating their opponents more and more, and his eyes grew dull every match as he won. As his trainer just a year back, he had all the right to set his student back into shape. He would visit him every now and then to ask about basketball and be as inconspicuous about it as possible. Kise, being who he was, would reply honestly to him and with no hesitation. “Well~ It’s been boring lately, Kurokocchi! No good opponents anymore, and Aominecchi won’t play with me either! I don’t like this~”

Kise would pout or frown, and say it all with a sing-song voice. Tetsuya would frown inwardly and give his opinion every now and then. “That’s not really true. It’s just because Kise-kun doesn’t give them a chance, and you know very well you wouldn’t be able to win against Aomine-kun just yet. That, and he’s busy.”

“Eeeeh?” Kise would trail off in a drawl, as if he was bored or uninterested. Offended, even. “You don’t mean that, Kurokocchi, you don’t, I know it. What chance is there to give when they don’t even give themselves a chance? Don’t you see them just giving up?” He would chuckle though, just for a few seconds. Tetsuya knew this was what Kise really thought, and it was correct. “And Aominecchi…he’s the same as me! We’re both bored~”

It would take all of Tetsuya’s willpower not to snap at the blond, so he would just let out a neutral noise from his throat and drop the topic. Kise would smile and continue rattling about his day and himself. Tetsuya wouldn’t even bothering turning his ears on to listen to his mindless chattering.

Kise would remember, however, for the rest of his life, that when he couldn’t break the defence of a certain opponent on him, and was nearly injured, Tetsuya was the one saved him and suffered from a nosebleed from it. The team would slaughter the opponent mercilessly for harming their member, or for even attempting to, but Kise would be the most agitated. After the game, he would kneel in front of the shadow, with tears in his eyes, and said shadow would just ruffle his hair silently, and would soon be tackled to the floor by the blonde.

Next was Murasakibara. The giant and the short male were never close on the courts, but they went pretty well when off. The whole team knew that Murasakibara never really played for fun, like Kise, and only played because he was good at it. Unlike Kise, however, he could never find it fun. He never had a reason to play it for such.

Tetsuya gave him a reason though, when he just grew more and more irritated at the sport. Irritated, and bored. More of irritated, though. The opponents were simply boring and seeing them give up so easily just wasn’t as fun anymore. He was thinking on quitting, and when he was about to leave his resignation letter on Akashi’s table, Tetsuya appeared out of nowhere, making him stop chewing his chips. “Kuro-chin,” he would start, “Where’d you come from?”

He received a typical Tetsuya answer—“I was here the whole time.” He let out and interested sound, before Tetsuya added, “Why are you quitting, Murasakibara-kun? I never poached you for a quitter.”

Murasakibara raised a brow, a bit confused. “Why am I quitting? Isn’t it obvious?” He asked back, as if it were the most natural thing in the world. Tetsuya would narrow his eyes. “Because basketball is boring.”

“You don’t mean that.” Tetsuya would interject a bit irritated. “It’s not boring. It’s only boring because you made it that way.”

Murasakibara would stare at Tetsuya, bored, but confused. Then, he would ruffle his hair once more and earn a frown from the younger, and he would walk away. Tetsuya wouldn’t mind.

But then whenever he ran out of snacks, Tetsuya was there. Whenever he was teased for his height, he felt hurt, but would never show it. Tetsuya was there too. Whenever he was scolded or hurt, Tetsuya was there. Tetsuya was always there.

Murasakibara never gave the letter in the end.

After him, was surprisingly, Midorima. The Cancer and the Aquarius were never close, may it be on or off the court. However, the fact that the two of them were the only bookworms of the team, they still stuck to each other when it came to matters about the printed word. They had library duties together, and every now and then, they would comment on each other’s novel of the current times. Not only that, but being the two most soft-spoken ones, they grew to understand each other simply by stares and simple gestures such as the flick of their hands, the nodding of their heads, the raising of eyebrows, the creasing of their foreheads, and no matter how rare it was, the sudden twitching of their lips. They understood it all.

But of course, that wasn’t all the time. Midorima still didn’t get along with Tetsuya like Aomine did or Kise, and Tetsuya could agree with that. They, however, never hated each other. There was this time though, that Midorima was close to hating the blue haired teen for real. 

The two had a conversation once about books, and their opinions contrasted greatly. The book was a mystery novel, and it was about a crime that happens based on a book and the author of the book was the suspected killer. Everyone agreed to that statement, but things got out of hand when the author himself was murdered, and so, it became a quest to find the murderer and their motives.

“It’s a good novel,” Midorima would say, like usual to all the books Tetsuya manages to read, “But its plot is quite inconsistent and off.”

Tetsuya would raise a brow, because he and Midorima rarely had opposing views on books. “Why is that, Midorima-kun?” He’d ask, and Midorima would know it’s because Tetsuya himself doesn’t think so.

The green haired teen would raise a brow, and his lips would twitch downwards. Tetsuya narrowed his eyes. “The culprit is obviously the author, but then he was killed off. People wouldn’t change perspectives so easily that way, even if the person was killed. The way the authoress killed him off and made the people in the book change perspectives so fast just seems so unrealistic.”

“Hm. That is a vaild point there, Midorima-kun.” Tetsuya would agree with the idea, but not entirely. “But the authoress wouldn’t do that for a reason now, would she? Everything someone does has a reason. She wouldn’t kill him off unless he really wasn’t the killer.” He would say. “And besides, Midorima-kun, you haven’t even read everything yet.”

Midorima would flinch at the accusatory tone and push up his glasses. “Hmph.” He would huff out. “Even so, it seems inconsistent to me.” He would eye Tetsuya critically and ask, “What makes you say that she has a reason? What’s _your_ reason?”

Tetsuya’s lips would twitch a bit upwards, and Midorima would narrow his eyes. He knew that action. Tetsuya knew something he didn’t, that, or he knew he would beat him in this. “Midorima-kun,” he started out slowly, “Think about it. The book in the story is a worldwide bestseller, and the author of that book is famous worldwide for that book and for his wealth from other books as well. He couldn’t possibly be the killer, because if he were, then he would be staining his own reputation, and a famous person, no matter how crazy they end up, would never damage his reputation at any cost.” He said, and pale blue met green orbs. “The killer seemed to have read the book over and over again, because his or her killings follow the book’s words exactly to the last word of the paragraph he or she is following. The author of the book was killed exactly the way the villain in his book was killed. That would mean that the main character in this case would be the killer, but in his book, the killer was never mention. The killer _was_ the villain, and the main character was the one killed. So in a way, it was contradicting everything he wrote yet following it.” He paused. “Now, who do think would be the killer then?”

Midorima would be stunned momentarily, before absorbing everything that was said. Tetsuya would have a valid point, and he wouldn’t have ever spoken so much if he didn’t. The taller male would ransack his brain for any retorts to the shorter and prove that _his_ theory was correct, but couldn’t. So in the end, he had no choice but to answer him. “A fan.” He would say. “A crazed fan. But that wouldn’t be a normal fan. It would be a fan that loves the book so much they went insane and wanted to copy it and live it out themselves.” He would pause. “But that fan, since they were crazy, would hate the author. He or she wants to believe that he or she is the main character, and the not author. The author, in their mind, is the villain, and they, the fan, need to kill him off in order to have the spotlight back.”

It was quiet between them. Tetsuya would smile a little, and would say, “Correct, but I have yet to find out who it is exactly.”

Midorima would scoff, and get his own novel, and read with him in a much better and comfortable silence.

It was okay with Tetsuya that the two of them never got along on court, but he was content with reading. He was content in making the other feel at ease and wouldn’t deal with the so-called idiots whom Midorima would rather not bother with if it weren’t for basketball. Because no matter what, Tetsuya was there too. For books, for silent company, for his lucky items—he was always there.

Aomine was probably the most troublesome, but Tetsuya was glad to spend time with him. The tanned male and the pale male were the opposite of Midorima—they got along on the court, but not outside the court. They had wonderful chemistry as partners with Aomine’s shooting, speed and skills, and with Tetsuya’s invisibility and passes, they were the dream pair.

They did get along every now and then off court, but they were prone to disagreements as well. They may go out for ice cream together and eat together with the others, but that doesn’t mean that they necessarily get along the best.

Tetsuya would never forget the fight the two of them had near the end of their second year—or was it early third year—when he started to doubt basketball and their team.

It was just another lunch time on the rooftop when Aomine would lawn loudly after eating all his food and stays seated for a while and just stare into space as his stomach digested his food. The others would continue on eating whatever they head, and the occasional random chattering would be heard.

Tetsuya knew that time that Aomine was already changing. He grew more and more like Murasakibara as he became lazier and more bored, and became somewhat like Akashi with his new philosophy—or motto—for himself.

_“The only one who can beat me is me.”_

At that time, Tetsuya would clutch his chopsticks fiercely in his hands as he would stop eating. He would think and think. Think what could’ve driven Aomine that way. Think at what this could end up to. Think at what this could end _him_ up in.

Then those thoughts, within those few minutes, took a new direction. What if Aomine no longer needed him? What if everyone becomes like him? What if their strength and glory gets to their minds, and ruins them all? What if Aomine’s change is just a prelude of things to come? Or worse—what if Aomine’s change is the prelude of _the end_?

“—Tsu! Tetsu!” Aomine called the boy from his position on the bench, yawning afterwards. He noted that the smaller wasn’t responding, and so he ruffled his hair, thus taking him out of his thoughts and releasing his death grip on his chopsticks.

Aomine didn’t notice how Tetsuya’s hands were lightly pale from his death grip on his utensils, nor would he ever think about what the hell was bothering Tetsuya that he didn’t even pay attention to him.

“Aomine-kun.” Tetsuya would blink, face blank. “What is it? Can’t you see I’m eating?”

“ _’I’m eating’_ my ass! You barely touch your food!” The whole team knew of Tetsuya’s weird appetite, and so they looked at his lunch box. They raised a brow. Tetsuya _always_ finished his lunch though, but this time, it was only half touched. Aomine didn’t notice that though, and scoffed. “Now, listen to me. I gotta tell you something real important here.”

Important? Tetsuya blinked again, and loosened his grip on his chopsticks before sighing. “Yes, what is it?”

“I don’t need you to pass to me anymore.” Aomine said, a grin on his face, but with eyes blank and bored. “I’m okay now. I can do this all myself.”

Everyone who heard that would stay silent, and nothing would be heard. All eyes would turn to Tetsuya, who would seem to stand out even more now. His eyes would seem blank, and so would his face. No trace of any expression on his facial features—no anger, sadness, happiness, relief; nothing.

After a while, however, he would nod and would turn his eyes to his chopsticks, and his eyes would widen and revert back to their normal size just as fast. Pale hands would seem paler, a trail of red would drip down slowly across his utensils, and would drop to his pants. He would feel a weird feeling bubbling inside him as he would watch the trail of red cascade down his chopsticks in one straight, yet somehow wavy, line and drip again to his pants. Anger? Relief? Sadness? He didn’t know. He just…

Felt _sick_. Sick to the bottom of his stomach.

And yet, he would feel some sort of twisted relief as he watched the red continue to flow.

Thin, slender, fingers would seem to tremble, and quickly, he would keep his things and excuse himself politely. He would go out the door quickly, and rush to the nearest bathroom to wash his hands and to the infirmary to disinfect the small gashes he got from breaking the chopsticks, and remove some of the embedded pieces.

That was the last time the Generation of Miracles ever ate with him. After that day, he stopped attending practice as well.

Yet, he still watched from the distance. He would cheer him from the side lines as he passed by the gym and watched him practice. He would sometimes leave water bottles for him and maybe some food as well. However, he would never show his face to him. He would never admit it.

Akashi wasn’t exempted from Tetsuya’s list. The two were the smallest in their team, which somehow, gave them a sense of comfort when with each other. Not to mention, there was simply something about the other that made them go to each other when troubled or concerned. Akashi didn’t go to Murasakibara, nor did Tetsuya go to Aomine. They went to each other for comfort, for help, and for solitude.

Aside from Midorima and Murasakibara, these two were the most aloof in their own ways. They were independent and refused to depend on anyone—Tetsuya only depended on people due to his basketball style, but as of late, it’s noticeable that he’s started to become independent in his way—and saw no need for help unless they were completely on the brink of death. They were both too proud—one more obvious than the other in all aspects other than this—and would just push themselves further and further even past their limits.

If they were to depend on each other, they would only do so on themselves.

Akashi knew about what Tetsuya does for Aomine, and for everyone else. Akashi gives Tetsuya the place to relax, to rest, and keep quiet yet loud. He was, in a way, home for the other. Tetsuya, on the other hand, gave Akashi a place to let go and be himself, and not the captain. Tetsuya gave him comfort in a way no words were exchanged, and Akashi did the same. Silence was their solitude.

The red head was probably the closest to the pale boy, and the shadow was _surely_ the one keeping the captain sane and calm.

Even during third year, they managed to be comforted with the mere presence of the other. But Akashi started drifting away—farther and farther, farther and farther.

Tetsuya didn’t mind. He was more than willing to watch over him as well.

* * *

It was painful. It was tiring. It was _exhilarating_.

It was break already, as they’ve all graduated from Teiko. They went their separate ways, and agreed on going to different schools. Tetsuya, however, was the only one who didn’t give the location of his new school, or what school for that matter.

Yet, even though it was already break, Tetsuya couldn’t stop thinking about his teammates— _former_ teammates, he corrected himself. He was growing overprotective of something he had no right to own or be protective of, he knew that, but he couldn’t help himself. There was this voice inside him— _this_ _monster that just wants to eat him alive and drive him insane—_ that was telling him to claim them, they’re his. They’re Tetsuya’s. They’re all his.

He tried to fight it back, he really did, but he couldn’t. He couldn’t fight back something he knew was right.

It started simple. He would go out for a walk, and would _accidentally_ pass by their homes or wherever they’re most likely to be. He would _accidentally_ take a train to anywhere where they could be, and just linger there a bit longer. He was a shadow, and had no problem blending in and being unseen. Tetsuya would watch in the distance, invisible as ever, and keep his eyes focused on what was his. He watched Akashi’s shogi tournaments, Aomine’s summer classes and street ball games, Kise’s modelling sessions, Midorima’s attendance at certain seminars about luck and religion and sometimes medicine, Murasakibara’s occasional visits to his favourite pastry or sweet shops and anywhere else they could be—even their homes.

 _‘This is not stalking.’_ He’d tell himself mentally, _‘I’m checking up on them. I am.’_

It was harmless, because he knew he was right. There was absolutely nothing wrong with visiting and checking up on your friends now, is there? It was simply Tetsuya being friendly in his own way, and caring as well.

It was nothing more than that.

* * *

Tetsuya didn’t know how to feel anymore.

It’s been a month into break, and he’s not doing any better. He was barely home now, and instead, was always on the street, roaming around and stopping by to observe any of his friends form the shadows. It became a daily routine for him already, and he couldn’t help but feel _anger_ at seeing people get too close to _his_ teammates.

He would always forget about it though—but not the anger. It wasn’t like him to feel like that for anything at all. Not even when he hated basketball did he act or feel like that.

Things started to just grow worse when one day, Tetsuya passed by Kise’s photo shoot in the park. He took his usual hiding spot behind a big and wide, normal looking tree, and watched his photo shoot. His lips twitched involuntarily as he watched the blonde have fun modelling for the camera and show different kinds of poses for said contraption. Every time he talked to one of the staff, Tetsuya felt no anger or any other emotions than blankness, because that voice inside him was telling him nothing. It seemed safe, then, but that voice— _that voice which is probably him just cowering the face of the truth_ —always meant trouble.

Then, a strange girl approached him. Black hair cut into a bob. Chestnut eyes. Black-rimmed glasses. Yellow sundress, white heels. Shy, scared, nervous—but confidence, confidence that only a woman would have, was oozing from the way she approached him.

Tetsuya narrowed his eyes.

“K-Kise-kun.” She stuttered as she fidgeted nervously with the hem of her suspiciously short sundress. _It’s so fake. Fake innocence._ “U-Um, would you like to join me for a cup of tea later on? I-I mean, you could use the rest…right?”

There was a reason Tetsuya tolerated Momoi than other girls. Momoi was someone that didn’t meddle into other’s personal affairs when she knows that they wouldn’t appreciate it. She only meddled in when she knew the person well enough, and when they cared for each other—like the two of them. Momoi would never be so insensitive as to steal other’s belongings or precious people, nor would she condone it. Tetsuya had to admit that she was beautiful and that, yes, they could be a good pair, and he wouldn’t deny that she loved him to bits. He might not lover he back as how she wants him too, but he respects and tolerates her than any other female in the vicinity.

Like this girl; this girl that _dares_ to even approach _his_ Kise with such arrogance, as if she practically owned him when she didn’t.

Tetsuya grit his teeth quietly. This woman— _this bitch, witch, wench, trash_ —needed to be dealt with immediately.

He moved out of his hiding spot, still unnoticed, and took a rock that was half the size of his hand, but obviously bigger than it. Slowly, he moved a few steps backwards until he was on the sidewalk itself, and diagonal to the girl. She was still fidgeting, acting all shy and innocent and blushing when she was just another nuisance in his way that deserved no place in this world, in his life, in Kise’s life or anywhere for that matter.

Looking for the right angle, he adjusted the position of his arm and grit his teeth once more as she continued babbling about the invitation for tea which was obviously a date and she was looking down like she was a virgin who has never even looked a t a guy once but Tetsuya knew better.

He always knew better for what was his.

Quickly, he threw the rock straight at her head. She never saw it coming, and that brought a slight smirk to Tetsuya’s lips. She fell to her side with eyes wide, and groaned when her body collided with the ground. Blood was oozing from her left temple and, judging from her fall, also her right temple. Kise’s eyes widened at this and he shouted for medical help. He carried the girl in his arm as he crouched down and told her to keep calm and that everything was alright.

Tetsuya froze in place. People ran past him, but if they stopped and stared, they would’ve seen the shocked face of a pale boy, and the trembling fingers he had that slowly curled themselves into fists.

_What…did I just do?_

* * *

Tetsuya didn’t go out for the next few days. He stayed at home and thought. The image of the girl’s shocked face was still fresh in his mind, and the blood that came out of her temple as the rock hit said spot and began to roll to the floor were fresh as well. The blood that began to stain the green grass was etched into his mind and it made him shiver. It gave him a sense of guilt, but whenever he remembered those _ugly and pathetic_ chestnut eyes widen in fear, he would feel…wonderful.

He would get a different kind of shiver, as he thought about it. It was pleasurable. It made him tingle in the right places, and he could feel his lips twitch into a small smile as he thought about it, as he remembered it.

 _‘What’s wrong with me?’_ He would think the same thing to himself over and over again. _‘What’s wrong with me? What’s wrong with me? What’s wrong with me?’_

Tetsuya bit his lower lip as he continued think. He knew he was protective, and he knew as well that be became overprotective over them. What he _didn’t_ know was that what’s making him go this far—what’s making him go out and _stalk_ his former teammates?

Was this is still overprotectiveness? It doesn’t seem like it anymore. Tetsuya feels like as if he’s stepped over a line—a line that wasn’t supposed to be stepped over. It feels like he’s entering enemy territory, except that it didn’t feel like enemy territory at all.

But that was the point.

Something inside him was telling him that it doesn’t feel bad or wrong because he’s already deep into said territory. He’s already fallen deep into a well, but in his panic, he just swam deeper and deeper into the water, not caring if he drowned, and after swimming so much, he’s grown accustomed to it already—the feeling of being drowned and suffocated already etched deep within his heart, mind and soul.

That was what was driving him crazy—what was it that led him to this well? What was it that was driving him into going deeper into this untouched and dangerous territory? What wasn’t there or was there that made him keep going? What was his motivation for all this?

He didn’t know. He didn’t know the answers, or what to feel.

Tetsuya felt a coppery taste touch his tongue and he involuntarily stopped nibbling on his lower lip. He then began to suck onto said lip, the red liquid cascading like a waterfall going upstream on his tongue, and going into the deep cavern that was his throat.

For once, he didn’t feel disgust as he usual did when he tasted blood. Instead, he felt…calm. He tilted his head upwards, wanting to feel calmer. He didn’t need these stresses right now. This taste was enough to rid himself of those plaguing thought even just for a moment, and he appreciated it a lot.

The image of the redness staining the grass and the rock came to mind, and he continued sucking.

Nothing felt wrong, and that was what was wrong.

* * *

Great things come from small beginnings. A light comes from a single spark, and from that spark, it glows brighter and brighter, until it becomes the stars and sun itself. A shadow grows darker and darker as the light grows brighter and brighter. The relationship between the light and the dark is a co-dependent one, as the light relies on the shadow in order for it to grow and become brighter, and the shadow relies on the light to make it darker and darker so it can help the light.

However, no light ever realized that even shadows want to shine their own brightness, to be noticed, to be _loved_ like the light themselves. All shadows notice everything about their lights, but no light ever noticed everything about their shadow, and only catches up when it’s too late.

Tetsuya was a shadow, but he wanted to shine as well. Yet, at the same time, he wants to be dim. He wants to be hidden in the dark and become darker and darker, darker and darker, until he becomes the darkness itself.

Yet the urge to be the light--to be praised, to be noticed, _to be loved_ —was always there. He couldn’t shake it off or ignore it because somewhere deep inside him, he know he can be bright. He knows he can be loved.

But he never really considered the possibility that he could just be making a misconception about himself here. He doesn’t necessarily want to be bright; he just wants to be recognized. He just wants to be something worth caring for, worth _loving_ and…

…worth noticing enough that he _needed_ help.

* * *

Choosing Seirin was a great decision on Tetsuya’s part. He liked the new environment he was in—things were serious, yet joyous. You can be serious while having fun, and their teamwork was wonderful. It wasn’t at the level of the Generation of Miracles when they were second year, but Tetsuya believed that with a few pushes, the tight-knit family of Seirin can be something more.

And that Kagami Taiga.

A small smile would always make its way to Tetsuya’s features whenever he thought about the redhead. He was a great choice of a light—he was like Aomine before, and maybe, just maybe, he could bring the old Aomine back. Not just Tetsuya or Kagami, but both of them. They could take the country by storm, and could be strong enough to beat the Generation of Miracles.

It was a great deal—bring back Aomine, become number one, beat the Generation of Miracles. Both of their dreams would be compiled and achieved when the two of them work together.

Kagami was like Aomine in so many aspects that Tetsuya felt like he was in Teiko all over again. But whenever pale blue orbs face fierce red ones—burning with passion and raw intent unlike Akashi’s—he would be knocked into his senses. _‘This is Kagami Taiga. He is not Aomine Daiki. He will never be Aomine Daiki.’_

Yet, sometimes, whenever the thought of Aomine kneeling over, panting with sweat and a hopeless, pained or angry expression on the court came to mind, something in Tetsuya would slowly creak. Yes, he wanted Aomine to change, but the image of a possibly pained Aomine was…horrible. It made Tetsuya clench his fists whenever he thought about it. He disliked seeing anyone hurt, especially if it were the Generation of Miracles. He would never forgive or forget whoever would cause them pain, and he would hunt them down personally.

And if he were the cause of pain, he would clearly kill himself off if he had to.

* * *

It was the practice match with Kaijou that made Tetsuya’s inner voice— _monster, monster, monster!_ —come back with full force. He was happy that they were winning, and he was happy that Kise was doing his best to beat him and Kagami, and he was happy too that Kagami was getting better at basketball and he may have a chance to evolve even farther, as he had so much potential—like Kise himself when he first started.

But then he disliked, no, _hated_ what his eyes saw later on.

Pale blue orbs grew darker with each kick Kasamatsu gave Kise, and with the accusatory glances his teammates gave the blonde whenever he didn’t shoot. It made Tetsuya’s blood boil and give him a bigger reason to win this.

There was no way in hell he would tolerate this behaviour. _No one_ was allowed to touch Kise or any Generation of the Miracles. _No one_ was allowed to hurt them especially.

When Tetsuya came back to court after resting from his injury, his eyes were glazed over at Kasamatsu. Kagami, noticing this, pat his back. Tetsuya looked up, eyes losing their glaze as he faced his light. “Oi, Kuroko.” Kagami started out, and then grinned. “Let’s do this!”

The glaze never came back to his eyes. Tetsuya gave a small smirk, and nodded as he bumped fists with the other. “Yes, let’s do this.”

Hate, however, was blooming deep inside his heart for the Kaijou captain.

* * *

They won, and they left with smiles on their faces and went to eat out. However, Tetsuya stayed behind for a while, and observed Kise. He wasn’t very comfortable leaving him with that _trash_ and so he decided to stay behind.

His eyes widened, however, when he saw tears starting to form at the blonde’s eyes. He froze. _‘Did I cause that?’_ He thought to himself. _‘Did I…hurt Kise-kun?’_

Tetsuya listened to their conversation from afar, but near enough to hear everything clearly. Kasamatsu’s loud voice was heard louder than the rest—“First time losing? Don’t fuck with me!”

Blue orbs narrowed lightly, but then Kise sniffed and threw himself to his captain, and cried harder. Tetsuya clenched his shirt, where his heart was, supposedly. Why did it hurt even more? He knew that he was supposed to feel better at knowing that it wasn’t his fault—Kise was just inexperienced, that’s all. A new experience was bound to hit him hard but...it hurt so much.

 _‘It’s not my fault. It’s not my fault. It’s not my fault.’_ He knew it wasn’t, even Kaijou themselves said it (he still had a great dislike for Kasamatsu though, but he understood him somehow) and so did Kise. Yet, it hurt so much. The crying face of Kise was etched into his mind permanently, and he flinched.

Silently, he left, ignoring Midorima who ignored him as well (or simply didn’t notice him) and went to catch up with Seirin.

* * *

_‘It’s my fault.’_ Only one thought was in his mind as Tetsuya flopped down onto his bed, full and tired from earlier events. The memory of him talking with Kise was momentarily wiped out from his mind, as it was more focused with said blonde’s tears from earlier. He couldn’t help but blame himself. He _knew_ it’s not his fault that he cried, but knowing that it was against him that Kise lost was the reason he cried, drove Tetsuya to the edge.

Right now, said shadow wasn’t sure what to do. The edge was there, he was on it. He was practically dancing on it, or wobbling. If he fell off the edge, he wasn’t sure if he’d get back up. If he retreated, he would keep all these feelings inside of him until it welled up and swallowed him whole.

He bit his lips. He didn’t want to be swallowed by himself. Not just yet. He knew he was almost swallowed by his emotions at different occasions— _the girl, wide chestnut eyes, red on the grass, red on the rock_ —but he couldn’t help it. It was his fault. If he weren’t so over protective, then nothing would’ve happened.

The thought, however, was still there—the thought of what was wrong with him. He knew by now, and truly believed right now, that he wasn’t just overprotective anymore. He wasn’t overprotective anymore from the moment he started visiting— _stalking_ —them during the break.

He was crazy. Insane. _Obsessed_.

Tetsuya’s eyes widened. Obsessed. That’s what he was. He was crazy, insane, messed-up…and obsessive. His eyes reverted back to their normal shape, and a soft chuckle came from his mouth, resounding in his empty room. _‘I didn’t expect that. But then again, maybe I did.’_ He thought, bringing his arm up to cover his eyes.

Some part of him wasn’t so surprised anymore, yet some other part of him was unsatisfied. He knew he wasn’t just obsessed. He knew it wasn’t enough. He knew it wasn’t right.

He brought up his arm a little, and looked at his pale skin with his pale blue eyes. He stared at it for a while, before red filled his vision. The girl, the rock, the grass, his lips, his chopsticks, the blood on the court earlier.

The taste of metallic copper.

Experimentally, he raised his other hand, and scratched his arm. He stopped scratching after a while, and surveyed the red patch on his skin that started to grown. His lips twitched. He brought his fingers to the redness, and began scratching once more. His scratches were harder and faster than usual and earlier, and he bit his inner cheek.

Tetsuya can feel the skin stinging from the harsh scratches and the cold air coming from his air conditioner hitting it. After a few minutes, he stopped. He breathed heavily, sweat staring to drip down his face.

A part of his arm was a mix of red and pink, with small reddish dots appearing on it. It felt thinner now, as his fingers caressed it. He can feel the skin twitching under his touch and under the air and he bit harder on his cheek. The taste of metallic copper flowing once more as he bit harder inside and sucked on said metallic coppery taste with much misplaced lust and raw desire.

After a while, he opened his mouth, with a few red splotches on some parts on some of his teeth, and brought the red part of his arm close to it, and slowly, he sunk his teeth into his arm.

_‘It’s my fault.’_

He sunk his teeth deeper, and his back arched a bit at the sensation. It was painful, but he felt a surge of bliss throughout his body, and so he kept biting. Teeth sunk in deep enough to draw a bit of blood, he greedily lapped at said liquid and let it roll against his tongue and fall into his throat effortlessly.

He wanted more. He needed more. He made Kise suffer. He was insane. He was crazy. It’s his entire fault.

‘ _It’s my fault. It’s my fault. It’s my fault. It’s my fault. It’s my fault. It’s my fault. It’s my fault. It’s my fault. It’s my fault. It’s my fault. It’s my fault. It’s my fault. It’s my fault. It’s my fault. It’s my fault. It’s my fault. It’s my fault. It’s my fault. It’s my fault. It’s my fault. It’s my fault. It’s my fault. It’s my fault. It’s my fault. It’s my fault. It’s my fault. It’s my fault. It’s my fault. It’s my fault. It’s my fault. It’s my fault. It’s my fault. It’s my fault. It’s my fault. It’s my fault. It’s my fault. It’s my fault. It’s my fault. It’s my fault. It’s my fault. It’s my fault. It’s my fault. It’s my fault. It’s my fault. It’s my fault. It’s my fault.’_ He bit harder and harder until he felt more blood flow out, a few droplets falling on the carpet as he rolled out of bed and fell to the floor. He continued biting. This pain wasn’t enough. He caused Kise so much pain—he might’ve even caused the others pain and didn’t know it. He stalked them throughout summer and acted as if it were nothing. He made Kise cry. He hit a girl out of _sheer jealousy._

Tetsuya knew he deserved much more pain than this. He sunk his teeth as deep as it could go, stopping as he felt his canines pierce through soft tissues and some thin layers of muscles. He lapped at every red liquid there was, slowly bringing his lower lip down and feeling his skin stretch downwards. The scent of metallic copper filling the air, plunging deep in his lungs, and the taste would never be forgotten by his tongue. He deserved more pain.

He didn’t deserve such mercies.

* * *

Self-stitched black thread was covered well by the uniform’s long sleeves. Tetsuya skipped practice. No one noticed.

* * *

Tetsuya never so much red hazes fill his entire vision until now.

It was break time; Seirin on their benches, Shuutoku on the other side. Tetsuya was drinking his water peacefully, a water draped over his head, blue orbs focused on a certain green haired male. Tetsuya wasn’t sure if Midorima’s team had a captain or someone like Kasamatsu, but even if they did or didn’t, he already didn’t like Takao for being so close to _his_ Midorima.

The guts of that _nuisance_ to call Midorima by a pet name!

But it seemed that Tetsuya would see just how Shuutoku’s team was like. They seemed to be arguing, and then time seemed to stop as those _pieces of shit_ that dare call themselves upperclassmen _break_ Midorima’s lucky item.

Tetsuya gripped tightly at the fading scars from his stitches, nails threatening to scratch harshly at anything in sight.

When the game started once more, Tetsuya was obviously in the game more than anyone. Although he did punch Kagami and got him fired up and everything was alright now, Tetsuya was in _no way alright_.

After their game and beating the living daylights out of Shuutoku, Tetsuya picked up the fallen pieces of Midorima’s lucky item, and watched Shuutoku depart. He looked at the pieces, and kept three. The others, he eyed them critically, before taking a few steps backwards and adjusting his angle.

Then he threw them.

Four of Shuutoku’s players were hit by sharp shards at their napes and heads. Two were slashed, with red fluids dripping down to their orange jerseys. The other two felt sharp stings on their backs and looked back and froze. Shrill, male screams rang out through the gym and the paramedics rushed to their aids.

Tetsuya immediately shot Shuutoku a dirty look, before leaving a replica of Midorima’s luck item in his wake. After wards, when all the Shuutoku team was looking at who did this, said teen in question saw the lucky item on their bench.

The shadow faded once again.

* * *

When Tetsuya got home, he immediately went to his room, and lay on his back on his bed. Bringing his wrist up in the air, he took one sharp piece from his pocket, and shifted his gazes between the two.

Midorima’s crestfallen face came to mind.

Without thinking, he slashed his wrist and watched the skin open up. It was like watching porn—if he had to use Aomine’s words and his experiences—or basketball, but better. The line was drawn, and it began to split itself into two and red liquid began to pile up on top of said line as it continued to open and more came out. Slowly, the piled up blood began to drip, and he readily opened his mouth.

_Plip. Plop. Plip. Plop. Plip. Plop._

It was different than a red waterfall flowing upwards, as this was like a tease. He wanted to savour more of this exquisite taste— _MORE MORE MORE!_

Mindlessly, he slashed another. Then another. Then another. Then another.

He cupped his pants. There were two more sharp shards.

* * *

Tetsuya was absent for a week.

* * *

Those shards were disposed of as they’ve grown rusty with red splotches. Some unused kindergarten sharpeners were put to use and were kept in places unknown to no one but him.

* * *

It was driving him crazy. With each match with one of the Generation of Miracles, he would get jealous. Jealous at their new teams. At their new friends. Their new companions. Their smiles. The fact that those smile were caused by someone _not_ him.

Tetsuya would grit his teeth. His stare would harden. Involuntarily, his hands would always drift to his wrists. It wasn’t this bad whenever Seirin was concerned. This wasn’t just obsession anymore.

He knew Kagami was noticing it. Hyuuga-senpai could see. Coach was suspecting. Kiyoshi-senpai knows something. Akashi was notified. The Generation of Miracles were suspecting and finding clues.

Tetsuya noticed this all. He wasn’t as smart as Akashi, but he knew he could outsmart him at times. All it takes are some brains, and to think four to five steps ahead.

He rubbed his wrists. He won’t let them find out, not while he was alive.

* * *

“Momoi-san.”

 _“Tetsu-kun!”_ A girly voice squealed from the other line. Tetsuya smiled softly to himself. _“Why’d you call~? Not that I’m complaining of course!”_

Tetsuya pondered how to break the news to her. “Momoi-san,” he began, “No matter what, you’d never judge me, right? No matter what I say, I will still remain ‘Tetsu-kun’ to you, will I not?”

He knew that Momoi wasn’t expecting it. He knew that if he called them ‘friends’ he would hurt her. He didn’t want to be cruel, not when what he would tell her would be worse. _“Of course not.”_ Her tone was gentle, soothing. _“Tell me anything, Tetsu-kun. Momoi-san will always be here for you.”_

A small smile came once more—a melancholic one, and, leaning against the tree, he pulled down his left wristband and looked at the horizontal lines that decorated his wrist. He adjusted his phone. “Please listen well then.”

Tetsuya told Momoi everything—from beginning to end. From when he grew protective, the girl whom he threw a rock at, the cannibalism he’s indulged himself in, the temporary bliss he gained from the sharp objects he’s kept to himself and his horizontal lines, the overprotectiveness— _obsessiveness_ —he felt for the Generation of Miracles, the fact that he wanted to be a light…to the last point when Kise and the rest talked to him.

Momoi stayed silent. She gave no output as he spilled everything to her. Somehow, it lifted up a heavy burden of his shoulders just talking to her. He felt wonderful, unlike the wonderless feeling he gets whenever he comes in contact with any object that draws out blood when near the skin.

After he finished his story, Momoi stayed silent for a few more minutes before speaking up slowly and softly, _“Tetsu-kun,”_ she began, _“Everything would be okay.”_

“Nothing is okay, Momoi-san.” Tetsuya quickly interjected, voice blank as ever, yet his eyes, if she were to see, were filled with emotions to the brim. “That’s the problem. _Nothing_ is okay.”

 _“Do you really believe that, Tetsu-kun?”_ Momoi said, gentle as ever. _“I don’t. I know things are still okay, it’s just that you don’t know how to deal with it. No, things were always okay. You were just blinded by panic that everything turned upside down.”_

Tetsuya bit his lower lip again—a new habit of his, it seemed. Momoi continued speaking. _“Tetsu-kun, it’s too early to give up. I want you to stop hurting yourself, but I know you won’t. Not for me or for Akashi-kun or for Seirin, but you would only stop for yourself.”_ She said. _“I’ll help you with your obsession, though.”_ Tetsuya blinked. She would? _“I seem to understand what you’re saying here, since it’s just some kind of over-jealousy.”_ There was a chuckle, but Tetsuya wasn’t offended. He knew that Momoi tend to be over jealous whenever a few other girls would go near him before during class hours, and he remembered those moments clearly. The pink haired woman was rarely angry, after all.

“What do you think should I do, Momoi-san?” Tetsuya admits that he was only comfortable with asking help from Akashi, but he wouldn’t help him. Not right now. Not when Akashi was after him to find out what was wrong with him. Then again, maybe Akashi _does_ know what’s wrong with him. “I…I don’t know what to do.”

 _“Be yourself.”_ She said. _“That’s the only advice I can give you. Be honest with yourself, and you’ll get somewhere, hehe!”_ She said, giggling girlishly at the end. Then, with her voice softening again, she said, _“Nothing is wrong unless you know what’s right, and not all that is right is right, so how would you know what is wrong, ne?”_

Tetsuya fell silent. He eyed his scars, a melancholic smile coming to face, eyes blank. “I see. Thank you, Momoi-san.”

_“You’re welcome, and don’t worry, I’m here, Tetsu-kun!”_

Momoi hung up, and Tetsuya kept his phone. The smile remained, and removed his other wristband. Blank eyes were filled with so much emotions, but only one stood out—hopelessness.

“There is nothing alright, Momoi-san.” He mumbled to himself with a soft, sardonic chuckle. “I’m thankful though.”

_Thankful that at least you see me as a light._

* * *

_Slice. Slice. Slice. Slice. Slice._

Drag metal. Bite lip. Bite cheek. Deep breath. Repeat.

Put down. Look. Stare. Throat dry, loud gulp. Mouth on skin, tongue lapping, red waterfalls to an endless canal, leading into a forest of others. Remove. Deep breath. Cold air, cold breath, cold scent of metallic copper.

Wonderless.

* * *

Tetsuya didn’t know what drove him to do it—but maybe he did know.

It started out simple— _like his obsession, this unhealthy obsession that drives him dancing on the edge_ —during classes. The teacher never really noticed him, and so he took it to his advantage most of the time, like now. It started out with a blank page of a notebook, and a pen lying innocently at the side. His hands seemed to have moved on their own and he blinked.

_To whomever finds this._

Who was he addressing? What was he writing? What was he doing? Different questions ran through his mind, and he expected to not know the answer.

But he knew it, and he knew it wasn’t just an idea anymore.

Suddenly, all the words, all the things that he told Momoi, are pouring out on this paper. He wrote about how Momoi tried to help him and how it wasn’t working, because no help could help him get out now. He wrote about his protective streak, which turned into obsessiveness. He wrote about everyone’s suspicions. He wrote about his suspicions about himself.

He wrote about everything.

* * *

His cuts have grown more aggressive by now. More and more horizontal lines are being etched into his skin. More than once has he dropped his blade as he realized what he was doing, but then that urge. That urge to see the blood flow out, to feel that temporary bliss, was always there. It could never leave, because it was a part of him.

 _‘That urge,_ ’ he thought as he lapped hungrily at his blood, _‘Is me.’_

* * *

His. His. His. His. His. His. His. His. His. His. His. His. His. His. His. His. His. His. His. His. His. His. His. His. His. His. His. His. His. His. His. His. His. His. His. His. His. His. His. His. His. His. His. His. His. His. His. His. His. His. His. His. His. His. His. His. His. His. His. His. His. His. His. His. His. His. His. His. His. His. His. His.

‘ _They belong to no one,’_ teeth sunk in deep into pale flesh as he lapped every drop of red liquid caused by the metal object, _‘But me.’_

They’ve come to practice. They’ve talked to him. They’ve had their suspicions. But, Tetsuya knows. Tetsuya knows what will happen, because he is the star here. He has created this little place for himself to shield him from them, but it never worked.

Instead, now, he has to shield them from him.

His lower lip moved upwards while his upper lip moved downward. He winced a bit at feeling his skin stretch, but once he let his head fall back, he felt much more at ease as the liquid flowed directly into his throat and into his digestive and maybe respiratory track, and back to his nervous system, ready to be taken once more.

* * *

He’s been massaging his wrists more and more lately as he can feel Kagami’s pointed stare at him. It was unnerving and uncomfortable, but he couldn’t break his mask here. Not now. Not in front of Kagami.

Calmly, Tetsuya sips on his milkshake as Kagami stuffs burgers into his mouth like a squirrel. Tetsuya smiled a little at the image. Really, his light was sometimes too cute. He may be buff, but without basketball, he was just a kid at heart and mind.

Slowly, his train of thought went to the Generation of Miracles. What if Kagami had been part of them? Surely, he would be accepted, but might be the weakest with him. He would easily mix in, and he could be good back up for Aomine and him as well. And…

…he would be protective of him too.

That would mean that they would drift apart as well. It would just become a hassle then if they all break up and they’re seven. He wouldn’t like the idea either of picking up a broken Kagami or beating him mercilessly and see him pound the ground and have his knuckles bleed as they turn white and he would watch from the distance—

A haze of red filled his eyes as he unconsciously crushed the now empty cup of vanilla milkshake. He froze, face still blank.

He doesn’t like that. He doesn’t like the idea of Kagami being beaten by _him_ if he were part of them. He doesn’t like the idea of him beating any of the Generation of Miracles because he didn’t want to see anyone with Kise’s face anymore in their little circle. And most especially, he does not want to see anyone like Kagami in their circle, punching or hitting something until their knuckles bleed and turn white.

And it would all be because of him because he failed to protect them from himself. Then, who knows, things would turn out worse. His obsessiveness would then catch up to him then he would break, and then the red haze came back. Images of teammates and former teammates scared and broken _because of him_ came to mind, and he crushed the cup further, still unnoticed.

_It’s all my fault._

* * *

Tetsuya planned it out during that day he accidentally wrote his letter. He would carry it out, because now, he was sure, this was the only way to fix things. This was the only way left to save himself from causing future harm to anyone or to himself.

Even he did not know what a letter could do so easily. It was a simple thought, then it was transformed into word, and now, it shall acted upon.

* * *

Two letters. Tetsuya has prepared two letters, as he is unsatisfied with the first one. Today was the day, and he has just written the second one as he felt it better. Yet, he wanted to keep both. He wanted both to be seen, to be read—

And maybe he’d finally be worth noticing.

He finally figured out what was wrong with him when just a few days back, he thought back at what Momoi spoke to him about.

 _“Nothing is wrong unless you know what’s right, and not all that is right is right, so how would you know what is wrong, ne?”_

She was right. It was a very selfish idea, but it was true and logical. You can’t brand something wrong unless you knew what was right, but what is truly right in this world when everything can made to look wrong? It was selfish, in a way, as it made the thinker seem like he was always correct and wrong then, and he would have everything to himself then.

That was Tetsuya’s key clue in everything.

* * *

It felt so good. He felt so wonderful as the blade dragged itself over his pale wrists. He raised his hand and watched the line he created, open up slowly as blood began to appear and pile up, then drip freely. He watched the skin open by itself and watched as the blood grew larger in amount and became thicker to the point it dripped to the floor already.

More. He wanted more! He wanted to see the skin open up slowly again, and see the blood come out even slower then, all at once! A smile crept its way to his lips as he let out a chuckle and made another deeper line beside it.

"Sei…juuro." He mumbled to himself as he made the line. He raised his razor and made another. "Atsu…shi…" The third line was the largest, but not deepest. "Shin…ta…rou." The lone vertical line stood out from the line, as it overlapped current and future ones. "Ryou…ta." This line was normal looking, but was deep. It was not as deep as Akashi's 'line,' though. "Dai…ki…" Last line. Deepest among all, nearly the longest, but deepest. He smiled.

Mine.

Mine.

Mine!

All them—they were all his! They were now marked onto his skin like they were engraved into his heart. They were never anyone else's—just his. His. Kuroko Tetsuya's. They didn't belong to themselves. Not to Akashi. Not to their parents. Not to their new teams. His.

His.

His.

His. His. His. His. His. His. His. His. His. His. His. His. His. His. His. His. His. His. His. His. His.

His. His. His. His. His. His. His. His. His. His. His. His. His. His. His. His. His. His. His. His. His.

His. His. His. His. His. His. His. His. His. His. His. His. His. His. His. His. His. His. His. His. His.

Blood came out gushing like a water fall on his arms, and he stared at in wonder, resisting the urge to suck it all off. He looked at his other wrist—his right—and his razor. He clutched it hard, drawing a bit of blood from his fingers.

"No one else can have you." He mumbled and began to ramble off. "No one picked you up but me. You're all mine. I protected you. I cared when none did. I loved when none would. I was yours and you were all mine. We belonged to each other but you all left me!" Tetsuya's control was slipping, his mask, crumbling in front of his own eyes. "But I never left. Never. I would never do so. I love you all so much. I would never do that. I was no longer yours, but you were all mine. All mine!"

He didn't know when, but tears began falling down his cheeks without him knowing. He choked back a sob and with each attempt, he made a line. He hated this. He hated losing control. He hated losing, but here he was—losing to himself no less. _'Aomine-kun would be so mad,'_ he thought, _'And so would everyone.'_ After all, in Teiko, 'Winning was Everything.'

'Teiko…'

He missed those days. His Teiko days. His middle school. His teammates. He stopped himself from making another line, and choked back a sob once more. _'I'm sorry, everyone.'_ He thought. _'I'm sorry for everything. But this needs to stop once and for all. I can't do this anymore. I don't want to hurt anyone—'_ The faces of the gossipers came to mind and he flinched. He looked at the razor once more before sighing and looking determined yet insane. He grinned with tears.

"You are all mine!"

' _I'm sorry_.’

* * *

That was the only time Tetsuya didn’t feast on his blood.

* * *

Unknown to everyone, Tetsuya has hidden another letter inside his Teiko picture frame. Behind the picture, two papers that were torn out of the notebook he wrote in first were folded neatly into four. He planned to show those and not the one he placed now, but he could no longer do anything. It was done. He was gone.

* * *

_To whomever picks this up,_

_I’m currently seated in class, the teacher not noticing me as usual. I will write about everything; about me. Please keep these all personal, as I do not know what could happen if this grew public._

_I have a weird obsession with my former teammates. I thought it was overprotectiveness, but it was something more. It became very unhealthy, that I began to destroy myself slowly, and bit-by-bit. So, I asked help from a friend. She gave me very useful advice, but nothing could help me by then. Yet, she said something that made me realize something, and for that, I was thankful._

_Have you ever really danced on the edge?_

_I have, and it was wonderful. But then you have to make a choice—fall down the balcony and make scene, or go down from it, and fall asleep on a stranger perhaps?_

_I chose to linger, but then slowly but surely, I fell. I didn’t know I fell until I fell into the water, the sky under the sea, and all I could do then was observe and hurt from underwater. Yet, even though I was supposed to be dead, I lived. I continued breathing and hurting and then as time passed, the pain became pleasure and it became an addiction; a misplaced lust._

_The pain from the fall was invisible, like me. That was something I hated. I hated being called a shadow, but I knew that’s all I was in everyone’s eyes. I wanted to be the light too; I wanted to be noticed and I wanted others to notice that I am not okay, and this self-medication I’ve prescribed myself was not doing me any good._

_I’ve kissed my scars and tried to tell myself, “I’ll be okay, it’s not my fault, I won’t lose,” but the fact I’ve even started writing this out was proof of my lost._

_I hate this. I hate this. I hate this. I hate this flavour with a passion but the aftertaste is worse, yet I crave for it. That sick, sick, disgusting urge that swirls within me is already me, and that scares me. What if this urge grows bigger? What if it finally takes me whole? What could I do? I might hurt so many people, and the last I want to do is hurt them._

_The last I want to hurt are the Generation of Miracles. They’re mine, everyone should stay away from them because it’s not my time—but now it is. But I won’t let anyone near them, dead or alive, because no one else haunts their dreams, their hearts, and their lives, like I do until they’re satisfied._

_Have you ever really danced on the edge? Have you fallen? Have you seen the tidal wave?_

_I have. I have, and I brought it upon self. Where I ended up, I knew I couldn’t make it out anymore and I knew nothing could prevail other than the sick, disgusting side of me._

_After speaking to my friend, I learned what was wrong with me. I’m selfish. I’m obsessive with my selfishness over my friends. I wanted nothing more than to have them to myself and have myself for no one else but them. I knew that they weren’t there for me, and that they weren’t as possessive with me as I am with them, but I know. They’re mine. They’re mine. They’re mine, and they belong to no one but me—not even themselves._

_I was a chemical kid, they were mechanical men. I made them run and I made them because I was chemically made, and mechanical creations depended on me. I’d like to believe that, even though I know it’s not true. So when I brought the tidal wave upon myself, when I fell from the edge of the balcony, I took them with me._

_Without them, there is no me._

_I wonder if they think about me the way I do. Do they at least consider me as a best friend? Would they care if I disappeared? Would they visit my wonderland? How would they react to me and my…addiction?_

_They’ll hate me, I know. But I could never hate them. Not now, not never. The only person I would ever hate so much would be those who get close to them, and myself because I’m the greatest factor there could be if they were to be caused pain._

_I don’t know what to do anymore. It’s time to for me to fall asleep on the first I see, and that first I see is no stranger, because his name is ‘Death,’ and he will sing to me in the morning as if it were night, and I would be at peace, and so will everybody._

_Truth is, I don’t want to die. I don’t want to face Death yet. But the more I don’t want to hurt anybody all because of me being alive, because of my existence and simply because I was there._

_I close my eyes everyone believes my lies. I hope nobody misses me; I don’t want to be a light only when I’m gone._

* * *

Behind the picture of the Generation of Miracles, something else was written, smeared with red. The letter was never read, and the picture frame went down six feet under with the body.

* * *

**_Did you know how deep I had to go before it was real?_ **

**_Don’t say you didn’t have a part in this._ **

**Author's Note:**

> thank you for reading! it's kind of making me emotional to see my old fics again haha. hmu on twt @ sagikaashi!


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